


give me something that i can remember

by erlkoenig



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Celebrimbor reminisces about his father and his uncle and Finrod, M/M, flirting with your partner through nature, this is about as fluffy as these two can get, while Annatar discovers he has a difficult relationship with nature and birds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22610539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erlkoenig/pseuds/erlkoenig
Summary: It had seemed like a good idea the night before, but now, with Annatar looking at him as though he had grown a second set of arms, he’s not so sure.
Relationships: Annatar/Celebrimbor | Telperinquar
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36
Collections: 2020 My Slashy Valentine





	give me something that i can remember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fernstrike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fernstrike/gifts).



> For Fernstrike, who asked for "happy moments snatched between dark times, and fluff laced with foreshadowing". I hope this is to your liking, dear!

It had seemed like a good idea the night before, but now, with Annatar looking at him as though he had grown a second set of arms, he’s not so sure.

“A walk?”

“Yes.” Celebrimbor shifts his weight. They’re both still so new to this thing between them, and though Annatar has made himself quite at home in Celebrimbor’s life, the elf still feels wholly out of his element in his own halls.

Which is how he got here, now, second-guessing something as simple as a request for the two of them to take a walk.  _ Let me show you around properly,  _ he had said, and Annatar has turned slowly to stare at him like it was an absurd thing to ask.

Annatar laughs, soft and wisp-like, “Whatever for?”

_ Because I would like it very much.  _ “Ah, I thought it might be nice to get out? Spring is coming and the weather is lovely out, all the green things are coming out of their winter hibernation.”

Annatar says nothing for a long moment, turns back to the designs he had been working on and Celebrimbor is about to ask if he’s being dismissed from his own workshop when Annatar folds the paper. He turns back to Celebrimbor, and there is a disarmingly charming smile stretched across his face, a sudden reminder that for all he may seem like them, Annatar is something else entirely. 

“I would be delighted.”

There’s something in his tone that sounds like he is humoring Celebrimbor, a subtle thing, and Celebrimbor thinks he should explain to Annatar what sincerity is, and how that tone is not it. 

One day, but not today. 

“Alright. Yes, excellent!” Celebrimbor claps his hands together and rubs them briskly — something his father did when his latest project was going his way, and he pushes  _ that  _ aside for the time being. 

Celebrimbor excuses himself to change his clothes into something more appropriate and comfortable. When they meet by the city gate, Annatar is still in his usual long, loose robes, and Celebrimbor is  _ fond _ , but also exasperated. 

There’s no use arguing with him, and Celebrimbor knows how and when to choose his battles with Annatar. 

The weather is just as beautiful as he’d hoped, warm with a light breeze, and down the road from the gate to Ost-in-Edhil, songbirds are trilling in the beech trees in between the new leaves budding. 

Annatar gives them a look, something between  _ annoyed  _ and  _ alarmed.  _ The songs stop immediately. 

“They’re intimidated by you.”

“As they should be.” 

“Oh, come now.” Celebrimbor scowls. “They’re just little birds. What could they have possibly done to draw your ire?”

Annatar presses closer to Celebrimbor then, loops his arm with his. “They’re  _ loud. _ ”

“They’re  _ birds _ .” Annatar is so warm all of the time, like a forge burning just beneath his skin, and in spite of the pleasant weather, Celebrimbor finds himself leaning into it. Annatar’s expression softens, and he turns his head to look at him, soft strands of pale hair brushing against Celebrimbor’s face. 

He seized the opportunity and guides them closer to the trees to get a better look at the birds. A lone robin looks down at them from a cluster of starlings, and there’s something about it that strikes him as almost familiar. After a moment the starlings begin their trilling again, going about as if they had quite forgotten the dour look from the maia. The robin is more cautious, watching them warily as they approach.

In a way, it reminds him of Annatar; a lone stranger in a flock of elves, and though he looks as though he might belong there, he stands out when one takes a closer look.

That fondness is back, blooms in Celebrimbor’s chest and he reaches down tentatively, takes Annatar’s hand. Feels the maia startle against him, hesitate, and then Annatar threads his fingers between Celebrimbor’s own.

Their walk is still salvageable, and with that hope, Celebrimbor leads them further into the forest around Ost-in-Edhil.

Annatar listens patiently as Celebrimbor points out this thing or that, the different fauna and flora that, while not special to Eregion, is special to him in its own way. 

“My uncle taught me a lot of what I know,” and  _ this _ has Annatar’s attention. Celebrimbor doesn’t talk about his family, not even his father in spite of Annatar’s questions about him. “He would take me out hunting, which I did not particularly care for, but I enjoyed his company.”  _ For a while. _ “Though the one to go to for anything and everything about growing things was Finrod Felagund.”

Annatar’s hand tightens around his, almost imperceptibly, and Celebrimbor stops.

“Is something the matter?”

“Ah,” Annatar seems flustered, a look that Celebrimbor has never seen on him before now. “Was?”

Celebrimbor doesn’t want to say it aloud; even now, everything about it is still so painful, still aches so deep between his ribs that he thinks it will fester there forever. 

“Was.” He says simply. Surprisingly, Annatar does not push the issue.

They lapse into a gentle silence, with only the sounds of the breeze whispering through the leaves, the soft padding steps of a fox in the underbrush. 

“I think this is the most you have said about your family to me at one time.” Annatar says, breaking the silence at last. 

“I suppose it is.” 

Annatar brushes his thumb over the back of Celebrimbor’s knuckles. It’s such a soft touch, but Annatar is not one given to grand displays of affection. From him, it was akin to pulling Celebrimbor into a dramatic, passionate kiss. It pulls a little gasp out of him, and he wants to bring Annatar’s hand to his lips, mirror the motion with a kiss. 

“I miss them.” Celebrimbor says, waves his free hand dismissively. “It’s not an absurd thing, to miss them. My father, especially. I like to think I made the right decision in walking away from him, but sometimes — a lot of times, really, I wish it had happened differently.”

Annatar says nothing, just waits quietly for him to continue.

“I wish I had tried to reach out to him, before he —“ He trails off, swallows around the lump that has formed in his throat. “I wish I told him that I didn’t hate him. That I did love him, in spite of what happened. He was — he was my father.”

Annatar nods, and where Celebrimbor expects to see the usual lack of understanding of such emotions, there’s a sort of sympathy reflected in those golden eyes. Perhaps not  _ sympathy,  _ but an echo of understanding that Celebrimbor cannot guess at. He wants to ask, nearly does, but then files it away for later. Another conversation, on another day. 

“What is done, is done.” Annatar says softly, “Now you have to live with it.”

“I know you’re trying to be helpful.” Celebrimbor swipes angrily at the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. “But please, don’t. At least don’t say it like that.”

Annatar arches an eyebrow, and then nods. “Alright. Show me something else.”

“You are impossibly ridiculous, you know that right?” Celebrimbor tugs him forward, moving down the forest path again. 

“So you say.”

“This is the first time I’ve said such a thing!”

“First time that you have said it  _ to  _ me,” and Celebrimbor feels like he’s been struck by lightning, because there is a playful, teasing sort of smile pulling at the corners of Annatar’s lips. “You mutter it to yourself when you think I cannot hear you.”

“Oh no.” Celebrimbor says softly. 

“Among other things—“

“Look!” Celebrimbor cries, cutting off his next words. “Geraniums! And so early in the year, let’s go have a look, shall we?”

Annatar looks where Celebrimbor is pointing, wholly unimpressed by the flower buds poking up from the grass, but when he looks back to Celebrimbor he suddenly understands something, something at Celebrimbor’s expense.

He laughs.

It’s not the soft, whispering sort of laugh that Celebrimbor is used to hearing, but something louder, almost musical and foreboding all at once. It’s like the distant sound of thunder, war drums, steel striking steel in some deep forge. 

He shivers with it, feels goosebumps raise all along his arms, the back of his neck. And yet he wants to hear it again and again and again. 

“I have embarrassed you.”

“I’ve embarrassed myself, really.” Celebrimbor grumbles, holding loosely on to Annatar’s hand, waiting for the maia to pull away from him.

“Geraniums.” A chuckle. “Now, who is being impossibly ridiculous.”

Celebrimbor pushes at him with his shoulder, tries to stifle a grin as he does, but Annatar is quicker than him, catches him by the elbow and pulls him close. 

Celebrimbor’s heart is pounding, and he wonders if he’s crossed some line he didn’t even know was there. Annatar is looking at him like he’s a puzzle, something to pick apart, pull to pieces to learn how it works.

He’s holding his breath, the moment on a precipice, daring one of them to move.

It’s Annatar that moves first, leans closer, those bright eyes never leaving Celebrimbor’s own as their faces inch closer, so slowly they might be moving underwater.

_ He’s going to kiss me. _

_ He’s going to  _ kiss  _ me. _

Celebrimbor closes that last bit of distance, and it’s nothing like how he expected it to be.

Annatar tastes like copper, like fire. His mouth is hot and hard against his own and it’s not the gentle, picturesque thing that Celebrimbor had imagined, but it’s still  _ perfect. _

It’s over sooner than he’d like, and when they do part, he’s light-headed and grinning up at Annatar, who is still looking at him like he’s some challenge, but the little smile, the soft burn behind his eyes says that he’s particularly interested in this challenge.

It’s  _ something _ ; it sends his heart soaring and he thinks he could pour it out to Annatar, and the maia would listen to him, head tilted in that way he does, then take it all and lock it away somewhere. 

He wants to believe he would be safe in the hands of this strange creature with his too-sharp smile and too-warm skin. He wants, he wants it so terribly and when Annatar moves to his side, rests his head gently on Celebrimbor’s shoulder, he thinks maybe Annatar wants it too. 

It’s  _ something _ , and he’ll take it. 

“Would you like to go back?” He asks.

Annatar considers, pulls their entwined hands out in front of them, points down the path. “We have not finished our walk.”

Celebrimbor smiles, brushes away another stray tear, and leads them forward, down the path. 


End file.
